


Masquerade Waltz

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Comedy, Crack, Domestic, Established Relationship, IT'S CALLED BANTER AND SERIAL KILLERS LIE, M/M, Murder Husbands, OC warning, QUIT COMMENTING ABOUT IT, SEE THE FOREST FOR THE TREES, THEY ARE NOT GOING TO EAT THE METH HEAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal are making dinner. They get an unexpected guest who invites himself in. Hannibal finds that quite rude, and we all know what happens to rude people.<br/>Not Beta Read</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Humor, kinda crack. I don't know. It's short and sweet.  
> Not Beta Read.  
> Masquerade Waltz is by Aram Khachaturian. I own nothing.

“So who are we eating today?”

Hannibal finished tying his apron the exact way he liked before giving his lover a considering look. “Our friend, the cow. I’m afraid I didn’t inquire about its name.”

“Seriously? We‘re having beef? Like moo cow meat?” Will asked as he got out two wine glasses and opened the bottle of red that Hannibal had picked for their pleasure this evening. Will still preferred his whisky over wine, but Hannibal liked it when he drank with him and Hannibal tended to get what he liked more often than naught. 

“That particular fare is a little harder to come by. We don’t eat it everyday.” Hannibal said, preparing the meat in question for dinner while Will was set up to work across from him, his culinary contribution chopping up mushroom and carrots for the dish. “And I have found that variety is the spice of life.”

“C’mon, it’s not really cow is it?” Will decided to be obstinate this evening, loving how it made Hannibal’s brow twitch in irritation. 

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Hannibal said, accepting his glass of wine. He took his time scenting the aromas before taking a sip. “You look disappointed. I assure you it’s quality beef.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t doubt that.” Will appeared to be pouting. The sullen expression looked better on him than it had any right to as the man resumed his task. 

“Then, what?” Hannibal prompted, sighing at his lover as Will gulped his wine and unevenly sliced carrots.

“It’s just…I dunno. Boring.” Will sighed, looking down at the offending protein Hannibal was currently cubing with expert skill.

“Beef bourguignon is a standard in French cuisine.” Hannibal said stiffly, turning his attention back to the meal’s preparation since Will was intentionally being an obstinate little shit to get a reaction from him.

“Yeah, but it’s not people.” Yes, his lover was definitely pouting, knowing full well what kind of effect it would have on Hannibal. Now that he could, Will liked to press buttons.

“Don’t be rude, Will.” Hannibal said, pointing his cleaver at Will who dared to smirk back at him.

“Why? Are you going to eat me?” Will said in a teasing tone, his blue eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth.

“No, I just won’t feed you.” Hannibal grunted, controlling himself from bringing down the cleaver harder than he should. It would only tip off Will that he had won some points.

“You malevolent sadistic bastard.” Will gasped, placing his hands over his heart in mock gesture.

“Language.” Hannibal reprimanded, smacking the back of Will’s hand with the blade’s flat when the man dared to snack on the other ingredients. “Stop that. As butchered as they are, I want some carrots to find their way into the dish.”

Will’s retort was waved off as Hannibal gestured abruptly for silence, the man turned predator tilted his head as if listening to something other than Brahms and his lover’s jibes.

“What is it?” Will spoke low as Hannibal tilted his head back even further, scenting the air. 

“I believe someone is attempting to break into the house.” Hannibal said, somewhat in awe that this person’s considerable stupidity. There were far easier and less painful ways to commit suicide.

“Seriously?” Will echoed the sentiment, topping off their wine. He didn’t doubt Hannibal’s senses. Will’s hearing had never been the same after the Tobias Budge incident. The outcome of that had resulted in blow eardrums from firing his weapon point blank against his head. That and Hannibal’s sense of smell bordered on the supernatural. 

“Yes. He must be desperate.” Hannibal mused, making Will snort amusement and bubbles into his wine. It earned him a look from Hannibal as the two listened to the intruder bumbled into the dining room, making rather nasty comments about the décor.

“Wow, did he pick the wrong house.” Will said, shaking his head in amazement. “What do you want to do about it?”

“Well, you’ve already complained about dinner. Here’s your chance to rectify it.” Hannibal winced when he heard something fragile break, moving their inept would be thief definitely onto the menu.

“Oh, don’t get pissy. I wasn’t insulting your cooking…” Will rolled his eyes. Will would have said more but a strange man burst into the kitchen, effectively interrupting their conversation. The stranger’s bewilderment didn’t improve when the occupants of said kitchen barely even bothered to react to his presence or the knife he held in hand. 

OoOoO

After shooting the clerk, Brody ditched the gun down some random storm drain. That’s how they caught you, all that forensics bullshit. He had seen CSI once or twice, he knew how shit went down. He hadn’t counted on the clerk being able to hit a panic button so quickly before he died or how tenacious the cops were being. Apparently, they didn’t like it when you shot at them first.

Brody realized he must have gotten lost or something while running down random streets and hopping through yards cause he had ended up in a neighborhood that screamed money. Knowing that he stuck out like a sour thumb here in his stained, ragged clothing, Brody decided that he could hide out in one of these rich fucks’ houses until everything died down. Maybe even help himself to something expensive while he was at it. The wad of stolen cash in his pocket would only get him so far, only buy him so much. This would be so easy. He still had his knife. He knew how to use it. Brody planned on waving it around, scare the shit out of some yuppy fucks, and make them pick out was he was taking home tonight with him.

Expect these two guys didn’t look scared. Hell, they didn’t even looked surprised that he was there. In fact the slightly taller of the two seemed more intent on finishing his wine than cowering in fear. The darker haired man glared at him.

“I hate it when you’re right.” the other guy muttered. He looked more bored that frightened, and Brody wasn‘t liking that. He was a pretty big guy, a big enough guy that he was used to other people getting the hell out of his way and doing what he said.

“I’m always right.” said the man in the suit with the poker face and the funny accent. Brody had seen more expressive faces on park statues. “Excuse me, but did you want something?”

“Get on the fucking floor! Now!” Brody yelled, remembering that he had a knife in his hand. He waved it at the men, slicing air. They remained looking very unimpressed by it and with good reason, the older man casually picking up a rather impressive cleaver in hand to continue cooking. It took a moment, but Brody noticed all the other knives, all much bigger than his own and not on his side of the kitchen or within reach. 

“I believe that we will remain standing, thank you.” the suit guy said, arching a barely there brow at Brody. It pissed him off. It felt like the foreign guy was mocking him. 

A very distinct click of metal made Brody look over the scruffy guy in the plaid to find a gun being pointed at his head, and badge of some sort clipped to the man’s belt. Brody wasn‘t the brightest color in the crayon box of life, but he knew that gun beat knife. 

“Oh fuck me. You’re a pig.” 

OoOoO

“Funny you should say that.” Will couldn’t help but laugh, keeping his gun trained on the idiot in their kitchen. Will almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. This guy had no idea what he was in for. 

“Will, don’t play with your food.” Hannibal chided, pouring himself more wine.

“Hey pot, this is kettle. Just calling to remind you that we’re both black.” Will pointed out with a grin.

“Droll.” Hannibal said in a tone as dry as the cabernet he was enjoying.

“You know you love me for my wit.” Will leaned over the counter to press a dry kiss to a sharp cheekbone.

“Hey man, this is all a mistake. A big misunderstanding. I thought….” said the future Beef bourguignon formerly known as Brody.

“Liar.” Will interrupted, gesturing with his gun for Brody to drop the knife and kick it over to him.

“I must have gone into the wrong house. I know people….” the soon to be ’beef’ tried again, breaking out into a cold sweat as he relieved himself of his weapon. 

“Lying.” The empathic profiler said in a sing song voice. The knife was picked up and disposed of by Hannibal who gave the sub par weapon a look of mild amusement. 

“I was just on my way home…” The home invader was sounding desperate now, even to him as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. 

“Are you even trying?” Will mocked, practically sounding gleeful about it.

“You don’t know me!” the idiot yelled. Hannibal tutted in disapproval at the sudden rise in volume.

“I don’t know about that. What’s your name?” Will said gamingly. “And bother trying to lie. You’re really bad at it.”

“Brody.” The idiot muttered, refusing to give his full title like he had something worth hiding.

“Well Brody, I can easily tell you that you’re a waste of skin by your own choosing. That you’ve never done anything of importance and never will the rate you are going. You’re one walking, talking problem after another, all of which are your own making.” Will looked at the ugly man who stood in their pristine kitchen, saw into Brody and through him. “You’re a drug addict….meth. You live alone which isn’t really a surprise, and you just killed someone. To sum up your life up to this point, no one will come looking for you, and no one knows you’re here. How am I doing so far?”

“Who the fuck are you? How did…” Brody paled, his body breaking out with fine tremors to go along with that cold sweat. 

“I’ll let you in on just how screwed you are, Brody. I’m Will and this is Hannibal. We’re both serial killers and you just broke into our house and interrupted our dinner.” Will smiled, the expression deep and wicked.

“That was rude of you Mr. Brody. Very rude indeed.” Hannibal agreed, picking up his cleaver.

“And that’s not even the worst part…” Will said softly, putting his gun away. Though it should have, the gun’s absence did nothing to elevate Brody’s growing fear as the two men began to approach him, parting to come at him from either side.

“It gets worse?” Brody whispered, his mouth feeling almost too dry to do so. He considered running, but something instinctual told him that that’s what the men wanting him to do. That a chase was something they hungered for before they took Brody apart piece by piece.

“Oh yes, I’m afraid it does.” Will grinned, all hunger and teeth. “We’re cannibals too…”

“…and we’re bored.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading. Your comments make a lovely 'Beef' bourguignon. Your kudos are moo cow meat.


End file.
